


Another Ghost

by shinyeevee



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, and sad, just saying, really sad, this is gonna be angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-11 17:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5635765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyeevee/pseuds/shinyeevee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deacon tries to distance himself from Nora, thinking that maybe if he just stayed away she wouldn't find out his ghosts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Everything dies.

That’s probably how the world worked by now.  If anything, that’s how _his_ world worked.  Everyone did the best they can to survive while doing their jobs that basically prevented survivability, and some came home.  Some didn’t.  They weren’t buried on a hilltop somewhere, decorated with flowers and lanterns, frequently visited by the ones who were still on their way out the door.  No, it just didn’t happen that way.

Deacon wondered when things changed.  There were graves when he was younger – back when the marsh permitted it in the dry months or sometimes down the road where the ground was more solid – and his mother placed bouquets of wildflowers atop each fresh mound of dirt every Sunday as if that ritual wasn’t dead like the rest of the world.  Now though, it was easy to find a limp body in the streets.  Sometimes Deacon would even cross a hundred of them, riddled with bullet holes and drained of blood by a wandering bloodbug.

“Hey, you with me?”

She pulled him back to his body like no one else could.  Nora’s large eyes – such a lovely shade of green, Deacon didn’t see that iris color a lot anymore – blinked at him with concern.  Nora was certainly pretty, even with the jagged scar framing the far side of her face, curving along her temple and ending at her jawline.  Her hair was tucked into a polite bun, although a few stray strands always escaped and stuck against her wide cheekbones.  “You with me?”  Nora repeated as Deacon stared at her face incoherently.

“Who knows?” Deacon simply asked, reaching up to adjust his sunglasses.

“What were you thinking about?”

 _I was wondering what would happen if you died._ Or he was just generally wondering when the courtesy of burying a loved one became mundane.  Either way, Deacon was thinking of Nora and how much it would hurt if she wasn’t by his side anymore.

He would have to move on.  He’s done it before.  _But it might not be as easy with her._

“I’ve been thinking – we should get some noodles,” Deacon told her instead, turning away so she couldn’t see his flat expression.  Nora began to suspect his emotions even with his sunglasses on.  It made Deacon realize a bit too late that glasses weren’t entirely covert if Nora was beginning to see his telltale signs just from the month or so they’ve been running missions together.

Nora raised her eyebrows at him.  She was always so _expressive_ , her emotions right there where everyone could see them.  Deacon was sure that would be her downfall someday, yet he couldn’t admit that she was going to _have_ one of those.  Nora was supposed to be invincible.  “Were you really thinking about noodles?”

“Do you not live day to day thinking about noodles?” Deacon challenged.

“Not when we’re running an op, Deacon.”  When he glanced back at her, Nora was making a face at him.  She must have thought he was insane by now, yet never once did she ask Glory to come with her instead.  “Are you sure you’re all good?  We can send a tourist to tell Ticonderoga we’ll be a little late with our sweep.  Base isn’t even that far…”

Deacon shook his head.  “We’re good, I promise.  Let’s just kill some people.  You’re getting pretty good at it.”

 

“I need you to switch me with Glory,” Deacon announced as soon as he got back to HQ.

“I’ve told you before, you can’t switch your mind with Glory's.”  Smoke curled from Desdemona’s mouth, licking her cheek on its way to the ceiling.  She didn’t look up from the report that was engrossing most of her attention.  “Well, you can.  But you need her permission first.”

Deacon waved that idea off with his hand.  It was just something he came up with, and although it was nice that it was still on the table for the future.  “I mean with Charmer.  She’s…we’re just not a good mix.  I want her to bring Glory on her runs instead.”

He put a lot of thought into it, even if the decision twisted a dull knife in his chest.  Deacon had a lot to redeem for – the rest of his life was already booked for what he did when he was young.  If he kept looking out for someone else during the runs, Deacon would never be as good as he needed to be.  Nora was great – she was perceptive, and sarcastic, and she was so _brilliant_ – but she wasn’t the girl that needed to forgive Deacon.  Jacq was long gone, but her panic still followed him like a shadow.

“You want Glory to run with Charmer?” Desdemona raised a surprised eyebrow, but she simply shrugged the question off.  Deacon had been around long enough that she finished questioning his motives and just gave into his needs.  “I’ll talk to the both of them.  They get along fine here – they’ve done an op before.  Think they’ll be good?”

 _No.  Nora’s best when she’s with me_.  Deacon couldn’t say that though.  He knew she would be great on her own.  With Glory tagging along, Nora might even be the safest person in the Commonwealth.  “They’ll be perfect together,” Deacon said, framing the air in front of him with his palms and grinning.  “So I’m going to finish up some business down south.  You think you’ll survive without me?”

“Who can say?” Desdemona told him with a small smile.  “I already feel weaker.”  Deacon patted her shoulder briefly before he left.  She was a good leader, always has been.

Nora brushed past him on the way out the door.

“Oh, we’re on another run?” Nora asked breathlessly, rubbing her knuckles against her eyelids.  She looked like she hadn’t slept in a while.  For a moment, Deacon was even worried that she was exerting herself too hard out there trying to be like everyone else.  “Can I stock up on supplies first or should we just meet somewhere?”

 _Distance yourself_.  Deacon held his breath tightly and shook his head, trying to think of a reason why he would go anywhere without Nora.  Maybe he just didn’t deserve her.  “I’ve got an errand to run, it’s not for Dez.  How about you get some sleep?”

Nora squeezed her eyes shut, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.  “Maybe.  Are you going to be here when I wake up?  We can catch some noodles.  Since you are so obsessed with them.”

Deacon hated lying to her.  And that was a stretch, considering he made a career out of subterfuge.  “We’ll get some, I promise.”  He wanted to say something.  _I’m going to go deliver some supplies to a man whose daughter I helped kill.  It’s kind of a private thing.  Kind of like going to church but for sinners._

He definitely didn’t deserve her.  Nora smiled at him encouragingly and left, swinging around the corner where Desdemona was likely to give her the news that she and Deacon weren’t running together anymore.  Deacon briefly wondered how she’d take it.  Maybe she would understand.  Or she’d be angry.

Deacon left before he had a chance to find out her reaction.  He had enough ghosts he was running from, he didn’t have to have Nora haunting him too.


	2. Chapter 2

Deacon watched her and denied the feeling in his chest as he did so.

She rummaged through a spare ammo bag, checking the size before dropping it again.  She forgone brushing her hair that morning, in a rush for another op, so Nora’s natural curls were framing her face and kissing her cheeks.  “You’d think they’d have shells,” Nora side, sitting up and swiping the spare strands away from her face.  Her cheeks were drained from lack of sleep, two dark circles swiped beneath her eyes.  Deacon furrowed his brow when he thought about how late she stayed up, turning over and over on her mattress.

“How about we take a break?  Catch some Z’s?”  He volunteered uneasily.

Sleep didn’t seem to be a top priority for Nora.  She blinked heavily, shaking her head at his suggestion and clambering to her feet.  It took a moment for Nora to gather her thoughts while Deacon watched, noticing her sleepy walk to Tom in search of shotgun shells.  _She’s going to get hurt out there,_ a voice in Deacon’s mine muttered darkly, _if you don’t stop her now._

There was no way for Deacon to stop Nora from doing what she wanted.  That was like attempting to stop a radiation storm: dangerous, moronic, and often futile.

Nora leaned against a nearby table as she talked to Tom about supplies.  Deacon got up to follow her, sighing to himself while Tinker Tom fumbled through some drawers to check his ammo cache.  “I just need enough to get to the city for more,” Nora told him before stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.  Deacon reached out to grab her shoulder but fell short.  “There’s some greenskins right outside.  I don’t want to go up against them with a pistol.”

“How about 5.56?  You got an assault rifle?”

“I’m not buying a gun from you, too, Tom.”  Nora smiled at him as she rubbed her eyes.  She sighed and said, “It’s alright if you don’t have ammo.  I’m sure Glory…”

Tom threw his hands up in the air to stop her mid-sentence.  “Hey, hey, don’t worry my girl.  Tom’s got _everything_ you need.”

Deacon knew Tom didn’t have shells to spare.  He saw their cases littering the target room, void of the powder he was using with his new experiment.  But Nora looked too hopeful for him to let her down, so he waited while Tom continued to rummage through his belongings.  “Did you hear the last Silver Shroud episode?”  Tom asked as he hunted for nonexistent ammo.

“The rerun?” Nora smiled.

“Everything’s a rerun if you’re two hundred years old and _sassy_ about it.”

Deacon grinned and turned, ready to find some coffee while he waited for Tom to give up.

Glory caught his eye from across the room.  She glanced at Nora’s back suggestively, raising a white brow at him.  _No_ , Deacon thought as he crossed HQ to the cluttered desks where a restored hot plate was warming black coffee, _it’s not like that.  It’s never going to be like that._

After pouring himself a mug, Glory made a loud groan to alert everyone she was sauntering over to where Deacon was shuffling around.  “You’ve got to move past what you did,” she said as he handed her his cup, prepared to make himself a new one, “I know it’s eating you up.  It has been since we met.”

“My past is _mine_ , Glory.”  Deacon smiled at her while he poured his new cup.  “I don’t ask you about life at the Institute.”

“It’s because I can kick your ass.”

Tom finally gave up on the search, shaking his head while he apologized profusely about wasting Nora’s time.  She smiled while shooting it all down, telling him it was actually fine.  _Someone_ around here had shotgun shells.  “I’ll just ask Glory, she _has_ to have some.”

“With all the guns she collects?  Sure does.”

Glory eyed Deacon as they tapped the rims of their mugs together.  “I know you can still hear her sometimes, D.”

“I hear a lot of people.  And a persistent buzzing in my right ear.”

“Funny.”

Deacon shrugged as Nora walked over to them, shuffling her feet like she was reluctant to keep standing.  “Isn’t that what I’m here for?”

He sacrificed his mug of coffee to Nora before brewing himself another one.  “Good morning, Charmer,” Glory greeted, raising her cup to Nora before taking a long sip.  _It’s not like_ you _need the caffeine boost.  Go chug some oil or something_ , Deacon thought as the pot gurgled reluctantly.  “You runnin’ an op without me?”

“We have to get supplies to Mercer,” Nora explained.  She clutched the cup near her mouth, which distracted Deacon so much he almost toppled the pot over.  “You know, someone really should have warned me how much work goes _into_ having my own safe house.  Especially when one of my settlements – you know, one of _my_ settlements – is right there for protection.”

Glory snorted.  “And wait until those Minutemen find out their general is harboring synths.”

“It’s likely they already know, considering someone painted a big ass sign on the side of my barn.”  Nora grimaced as Deacon guffawed.  He completely forgot about painting those signs, before the first Mercer had been wiped out.  It was just another example of him toying with the Coursers: how dumb did they feel when they finally figured out the location of a safe house, only to see a giant sign indicating its purpose all along?

While Glory and Nora continued to chat – about Diamond City’s hiked prices on building materials, the danger of the main road towards the northwest – Deacon finished off a second cup of coffee.  He glanced at Nora, remembering Desdemona’s promise to switch her running agent.  Soon Deacon wouldn’t need to stand with her over coffee and wait on her conversations.  It would be Glory doing that, more than happy to take over after becoming so close to Nora.

“One more run and she’s all mine,” Glory pointed out when Nora excused herself to finish preparing for the long journey she and Deacon were undertaking.  “Shouldn’t you say something to her before you barely see her again?”

“Well, surely I’ll tell her goodbye,” Deacon retorted.  He was on his third cup of coffee now, since there was nothing else to do with his hands.

Glory sighed to herself and set her empty mug down, shrugging on her heavy coat before she said, “You’re an idiot, Deacon.”

“Dez says the same thing, you know.”

Deacon grinned at her even though he felt something gnawing on his heart.

If his life panned out differently – if he didn’t lead a mob against a kid, if he didn’t watch that same mob slaughter his wife – maybe Deacon deserved happiness.  He could have defended Jacq Spencer instead of petitioning for her punishment.  He could have stood up to University Point’s leadership and help dispel the Deathclaws away from the town, proving that the gang was nothing but trouble and fed off the fear and paranoia of the townspeople.  Or Deacon could have just been a good person from the very beginning, he could have been like his mother and left flowers for the dead on Sundays even if they couldn’t appreciate the beauty of a fresh blossom.

Deacon could have deserved Nora.  But he didn’t.

“Ready?” Nora mumbled after she tugged her coat on and picked up a heavy bag of bottlecaps she’d been hoarding for this particular trip.

“Depends.  Do I get Power Noodles out of this?”  Deacon ignored Glory’s smirk as he swung his rifle over his shoulder and followed Nora.


	3. Chapter 3

Mercer Safehouse was, in Deacon’s opinion, one of Nora’s best settlements.

She worked hard to keep each one well-stocked and on par with Diamond City’s thriving community life.  Deacon’s seen her touch different parts of the Commonwealth and revitalize what was once dead and gone: trading posts were now dotting the countryside, caravans were pushing back against raider strongholds for better trails, Nora’s farmers were now giants in the food trade and supplied Diamond City with most of their outside trade.  She and the Minutemen were beginning to show others the bright future, so much that Deacon even heard Radio Freedom’s broadcast inside homes, families gathered around the table to hear about the latest triumphs from the Commonwealth’s strongman.

But Mercer Safehouse was…quitter.  Different.  The hill’s slope was covered water pumps and mutfruit, the barn to the west filled with tables and a Jukebox for after workers after their shifts were done tending to the food supply.  Every house was stamped with a Minutemen flag (which also strategically covered the _Free the Robots_ signs Deacon painted) and kids were bustling into the center barn for another day with Nora’s personal robot, Codsworth.  Deacon could see synths he freed, blending in so seamlessly that he could have sworn they were human all along.  With only the guard posts and long fence, Mercer looked like any other quiet settlement in the commonwealth.

One of the synths jogged up to Nora as they passed the gates towards the main barn where Codsworth was teaching the kids geography.  “Sorry for rushing you, but caravans haven’t been stopping on that bridge so much…so trade’s been kind of slow,” she explained, resting a hand on her hip like the run gave her stitches, “I figured you would want to check it out?”

“Of course,” Nora told her with a polite smile.  “How’s the farm running?”

“You made us essential to the Commonwealth’s food supply,” the synth explained.  Deacon followed Nora and the farmer towards the center of the garden, carefully stepping over a long row of carrots that framed the mutfruit trees.  “81’s been great so far with giving us seeds for better mutfruit.  A couple of our people want to head on over there and help Dr. Penske with her research.”

“Who in particular?”

“Well, a couple of the kids, a farmer.”

Deacon drowned out the rest of the conversation, uninterested.  He knew that nothing important would come out of it: the synth farmer had her mind wiped and her memories replaced.  All she was concerned with was now farming, having migrated from a decrepit property from the west to find better work.  He just watched Nora move around the farmer, surrendering the heavy supply load over to the bar owner and shaking hands with anyone who came within ten feet of her.  She was so good at this kind of stuff: putting a face to justice, handling matters above ground.  Deacon wasn’t sure if he could ever fill her shoes.

The bar inside the west barn was open at night, hailing most of the farmers except for the ones with families.  Deacon found himself sitting at one of the small tables near the fire pit, pushing around bourbon in his glass while Nora finished up her long checklist around the co-op.  “Any food to go?” A waitress asked Deacon, stopping by his chair on her way to the open kitchen.  “We’ve got mutfruit pies…carrot soup…brahmin steaks?  Or do you like that old-world stuff?”

Nora walked into the bar, looking around for a moment before spotting Deacon.  Her face brightened when their eyes met.  “Oh, I really do like that old-world stuff,” Deacon muttered as the General began her trek towards him.

“We’ve got chips, Salisbury Steak, some BlamCo,” the waitress listed, squinting at her notepad.  “Any Nuka’d you like, deviled eggs and mash…”

Nora slid into the stool across from Deacon, sighing from the long day as she did so.  She glanced at the waitress before looking back at Deacon.  “Ordering dinner?” She guessed.

“You up for some food?”

“I could use a brahmin steak.  Hey, you guys got any mutfruit pies?”

The waitress slowly slid her heavy-lidded eyes towards Nora before loudly sighing.  She flipped a page in her notepad and responded, “We’ve got mutfruit pies…carrot soup…brahmin steaks…”

“Okay, we get it,” Deacon told her.

“Excuse me, I wasn’t talking to _you_ ,” the waitress pointed out.  She concentrated on her list again.  “We also have pumpkin pie, melon shakes, fried gourd…or do you like old-world stuff like this guy?”  The waitress jerked her head towards Deacon.

Nora stared at Deacon doubtfully.  “You like old-world food?”

“Not _technically_ ,” Deacon struggled.

“Then why’d you say you like it?” The waitress demanded.  She was obviously tired, ready to go back towards the fire pit and stay there until Nora and Deacon left.  “Nevermind, I don’t care, just order something already!”

“Two Nuka Colas and brahmin steaks.  Mutfruit pie on the side.  A bowl of carrot soup for me,” Nora ordered, “Deacon doesn’t like carrots.”

Deacon sure liked _something_ at the table.

The waitress shuffled away, muttering about grievances while Nora and Deacon faced each other quietly.  She _had_ to have known how he felt about her – it was written across his face, following him like a shadow.

The first time he saw her was when Nora first established Sanctuary.  He heard of a popular trading outpost up north and went there out of curiosity only to find new recruits patrolling the grounds of a heavily fortified base.  Nora was watching Preston Garvey train them, cupping her chin on her hand while ignoring the bottle of beer next to her elbow.  She looked so interested, completely dedicated to the cause that Preston convinced her to believe in.  The blue collar of her coat brushed against her jaw and she pulled curly hair away from her face briefly.

Deacon didn’t know what he thought when he first saw her.  It was like all of his logic leaked out of his brain and puddled in his toes.

“Welcome to Sanctuary,” a fresh-faced Minutemen said to Deacon, glancing at the girl. “She doesn’t like to be bothered during training hours, if you’re here for a proposition.  The inn’s down by the court.  Twenty caps a night.”

“Thanks,” Deacon mumbled to him, hoping the kid would go away before it attracted Nora’s attention.  “That’s the General?”

“Yessir.  Like I said, don’t bother her until training’s over.  If you want to enlist, our barracks has an officer waiting for you.”

Preston whistled for attention and the Minuteman almost jumped out of his too-big coat.  He saluted to Deacon before jogging towards the rest of the training recruits eagerly.

So that thin girl – barely an ounce of muscle on her – somehow rebuilt the Minutemen.  She was the reason Sanctuary was functioning, brimming with settlers and soldiers.  And Deacon didn’t know whether or not to admire her or fear her.

Now that same woman sat across him, her gentle face dreaming as she drew on the table with the tip of her finger.  She must have known Deacon’s feelings about her.  They existed ever since the first time he looked at her.

“Deacon…you okay?” She asked, snapping him back towards Earth.

“What?  Of course.”

“If this is about Dez switching you and Glory, I can talk to her…”  Nora trailed off.  She was aware _someone_ in the mix requested the trade.  Now the only person to reverse the decision was Deacon himself, and he was sure that time alone would clear his head.  “I just want us to be okay.  We’re okay, right?”

“It depends.  I have a bruise on my knee, and it is _really_ bugging me.”

“Deacon.”

He smiled at her, but it wasn’t convincing.  What could he say that wouldn’t hurt them both?  Was there any _good_ outcome?  “Did I ever tell you about University Point?”  He asked, leaning back from the table as the irritable waitress walked over to them with dishes balancing in her arms.

Nora furrowed her brow.  “University Point?  With the mirelurks?”

“They weren’t _always_ around,” Deacon told her.  “I used to live there.  And…there’s some stuff I want to get off my chest.”

The steam of the steaks and pie burned the underside of his chin and the bones in his cheeks.  But staring at Nora, who was so concerned and unafraid and kind, something broke in Deacon.  He needed her to understand why they couldn’t be around each other.  Or, at least, why they had to just stay friends.

“It all started when I was a dumb kid…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember i accept donations/commissions on my tumblr page lavellanfirst.tumblr.com !

**Author's Note:**

> just taking a break from my hancock fic! thank you for reading and consider commissioning me at lavellanfirst.tumblr.com/commissions!


End file.
